Fireworks in England
by ShadowFire52
Summary: It's the Fourth of July and Arthur is hating it as usual. But this year seems to be worse than the others. What happens when a certian Frenchmen finds him sitting alone in the rain? "How do you know when you love someone?"


Ok this is pretty much completely different from what I write. I blame my English in me kicking in. But I did my best. I don't own Hetalia.

_**Edit: Doing some cleaning up on my account so editing and fixing my stories. **__**Ivvalid**__**, thank you for your translation fix. To be honest, I do not like the language too much. I just relied on the translator and at that point I wasn't using a good one.**_

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The cold night air hugged everything in London tightly. Smothering all with frost bite and a touch that could have icicles generate from humid air and turn a person's spine into a rod of ice that could shatter with the simplest of movements. Why was it so cold you ask? Well the answer was quite simple.

It happened to be the Fourth of July.

Arthur let out another sigh as he hugged the thick jacket closer to his body. Trying to keep the heat within his being. He sat on a wooden bench that stood at the edge of a park. The park wasn't big but it was a perfect place just to sit and think. Especially during the night when no one was there. When it was just him, the trees, the shadows, and sometimes a fairy or two would have followed. He could voice his opinions and do whatever and there would be no one there to laugh or mock him or just bug him

He watched as white wisps floated up into the air with every breath he took. The old bench would creak when he moved and frost would fall to the cement below, adding more frost to the layers.

He came here every year. He'd head to one of the pubs earlier in the day and get himself smashed before stumbling home and passing out on the couch. He'd wake up hours later with a splitting headache, make himself some Earl Gray, take care of some paperwork or just chat with a gnome or such. Then the night would roll around and he'd stroll out into the frozen air that only few dared to even breath fearing that their lungs would ice over.

This year seemed to hit the Brit harder than usual for some unknown reasons, but he decided not to think of it and decided to blame it on all of the alcohol in his system.

"Stupid git..." he mumbled as he hunched over and rested his elbows on his knees and let his hands dangle. He gave a shutter as a light breeze blew by and decided to rub his hands together as slight amount of numbness set in.

He held his hands up to his mouth and gave a breath of warm air into them but that gave them a shock of pain instead. He flinched but continued to try and warm his hands. He continued rubbing his hands as he did so. He soon felt the frost reach his cheeks but he didn't care.

He gave another sigh and looked up to the sky. The stars gleamed and almost seemed to dance about. Arthur scowled at them. At the sight they reminded him of the god awful flag that waved across the sea. He brought his eyes down from the sky and to the ground.

Once more he sighed. None of his fairies or gnomes or even his little green rabbit had tagged along this year. That hadn't bugged the Englishmen too badly but now he was wishing for company. At the moment the empty shadows and trees didn't seem as inviting as usual.

He looked back up to the sky to notice clouds rolling in towards him. The corners of his lips slowly rose into a small smile a small exhausted laugh escaped causing more puffs of white to erupt.

"Great...just fucking great..." he muttered and then gave a loud laugh before settling back and hugging his jacket once again. He gave into a cold chill that ran up his spine and his back straightened before he hunched over again.

"It's his fault..." he muttered under the white wisps "It's always been his fault...he's the reason I'm like this..." he swung his foot enough to kick a nearby rock and it skipped ahead.

The same rock soon tumbled end over end back at him moments after. He looked up to see what made the cold stone return to his feet.

"_L'Angleterre_..." the person said and Arthur sighed and looked back to the ground. Francis walked closer to the other nation "I had a feeling you'd be here today."

"Go away you bloody frog." Arthur snarled out, his attention focused on the frozen ground.

"You're like this every year." Francis said, ignoring what the other was saying. He continued over to the bench and sat down next to the Brit. He shuttered at the chill of the bench.

"Why are you even here?" Arthur snapped as he scooted as far away as he could.

"I saw on the news that there happened to be a storm coming in over your land." Francis replied "I thought that it must've been really hard on you this year."

"Why are you caring?" the shorter blond snapped.

"Is that so wrong?" Francis asked, there was no smugness in is voice or anything that wasn't caring.

Arthur gave a small laugh "Why _would_ you care frog?" he rephrased.

Francis didn't respond right away, trying to think of why he did come and why he did care for the supposed enemy. He opened his mouth the speak but the other beat him to it.

"Shouldn't you be busy groping some bystander?" a slight smile cracked onto his face.

"I'm insulted that you think of me that way _L'Angleterre_." the Frenchmen said pretending to sound hurt "Besides, I was on my way home from Alfred's."

The cracked smile dropped from Arthur's face and shattered as it impacted with the ground. He concentrated on his breath dancing in the air and refused to speak.

"You do know missed you..." Francis spoke quietly.

"Like bloody hell he did..." Arthur hissed out "Since when has that twat cared..."

"Always." way the only response he got back.

"Damn lying frog." Arthur spat out and shot the other a glare.

Francis just sighed and both soon felt a few drops of rain strike them. A few more came soon after. The rain picked up steadily, soon drenching both to the bone.

"Ugh...now my beautiful clothes will be ruined..." the blue eyed man mumbled as he looked over his outfit

"Stupid frog..." Arthur mumbled.

"How can you stand this rain?" Francis asked.

Arthur just shrugged and looked up right into the rain. Ashen blond hair stuck to his skin in seconds and rain drops streaked his face. Emerald eyes told the whole story to Francis. They man wanted to go back to how everything was. Back to where he fist stepped on the untouched land. He saw tears start to pool in the emerald eyes.

"Arthur..." Francis said after a moment, breaking the silence.

"What." the brit said in a blank tone. He didn't bother moving at all, not even his eyes from the clouds.

"I can see how you feel..." the Frenchmen said with a calm tone.

"Do you really now..." Arthur said and slowly closed his eyes and let the rain wash over him.

"_Oui_." Francis said "_Bien_ _sur je sais comment vous lire vous_, Arthur."

Giving a small laugh the one still sitting spoke "Really now...? _You_ know how to read me..."

"_Oui_." was the one worded response he received.

"Then tell me, Francis," Arthur turned his head and opened his eyes to look at the other. Blue eyes met emerald and in an instant Francis realized what was happening; Arthur was letting him in "What can you read?"

Francis stared through the rain drops and into the other's emerald eyes. He was able to read words of pain, anger, sadness, fear, confusion, and everything that was ripping his heart in two. At one point he thought the flash of something like...love. A quick moment of love in the torn heart maybe?

After moments of silence Arthur looked away and back to the clouded sky "See? You can't read me."

"_Non_." Francis replied after a moment of silence "I could read. You just didn't let me finish."

Arthur's face stayed blank but his eyes slid to the side to look at Francis "Well then frog...what _did _you read?"

Francis pondered over how he could put what he saw to words. He decided on something simple "I saw that you're hurting and what I thought to be a small cry for _amour_."

The shorter man's eyes shot back to the sky and his frosted red cheeks stung as slight heat crawled through "You...You read wrong." he tried to keep his voice steady and calm as he spoke.

The Frenchmen was positive he didn't read wrong. He was the country of France! He knew about these things; but right now was not a good time to bring it up "Maybe I did..." he settled on saying and he watched Arthur for a while. He gave a sigh and stood up "I better be going...Arthur..." he said and walked over so he could stand in front of the other.

"Hm?" Arthur adjusted so he was looking at the other "What?"

Francis looked at the other, bent over a bit, and gently moved the hair stuck to the younger's forehead aside before giving a small gentle kiss to the man's forehead, causing the other's cheeks to go bright red "Do not be here too long Arthur. We all know you hate getting sick." Francis said and a smile slipped onto his face before he turned and started to walk off.

Arthur stared at Francis walking and as much as he didn't wanted to he reached up and felt his forehead. Why was his heart beating so badly? Why were his cheeks burning up? Why did he feel a small amount better after that? Was it because...he-no...could it? All those thoughts rushed through his head in a matter of seconds. Before he fully understood what was happening he stood up and jogged after the other blond.

"F-Francis!" he called out.

"Hm? _Oui_?" Francis said as he stopped and turned around, watching Arthur run up to him.

"F-Francis..." he repeated breathlessly "How...How do you know when you love someone?"

The Frenchmen got a smile "You should know this. When you're willing to care for them, to do anything that's possible for you to do, that if you had to you'd even die for them." he paused "But that may just be me. Love ranges from person to person; or in our case nation to nation. Because even we can love."

Arthur's gaze focused on the ground and Francis knew that he was thinking. He did not fully know of what though but for once, he did not want to poke and pry at it. So he decided on just speaking "When you tell someone that you love them just say _Je t'aime_. French is the language of love. And if you want them to fully understand, kiss them."

Arthurs slowly looked up at Francis as if saying 'That's all there is?' and the other nodded.

"I've really got to be going, _L'Angleterre_. _Adieu_." Francis said as he turned to leave and start walking again. He walked about a step before a hand gripped his arm and turned him around.

"_J-Je t'aime_." Arthur muttered out and then grabbed the front of Francis' shirt and pulled him towards him and pressed his lips against the other's. After a moment Francis kissed back and the two stayed like that for a moment before breaking apart and Arthur let go of the Frenchmen's shirt, shoved his hands in his pockets, and stared at the ground with a dark blush the way an embarrassed teen would.

Both looked up as they felt the rain start to lighten and Francis smile before taking a light grip on Arthur's face and turned it towards him "_Je t'aime mon cher_, England." he whispered before kissing the Englishmen's cold lips.

That Fourth of July, there were fireworks in England.

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_**Edit: Fixed up a bit.**_

Translations (I'm sorry if they're wrong):

_Bien sur je sais comment vous lire vous_, Arthur- Of course I know how to read you, Arthur.

_L'Angleterre_- Enngland (obvious)

_Oui_- yes (also obvious)

_Je t'aime_- I love you (duh)

_Je t'aime mon cher_, England- I love you my darling England.

Please Review!

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